Don't kiss me, I'm not Irish.

Normally, I write my blog on my laptop, but my laptop charger is broken, and the new one I ordered hasn't arrived yet. Therefore, I am writing this on my family's desktop computer, which I try to avoid, because it is slow and is apparently infected with numerous viruses. Once I tried to uninstall some of the problem programs, but when I did, I got a popup saying to solve an equation before I uninstalled them, which seemed very fishy to me.

Anyway, it was St. Patrick's Day this week. I keep flip-flopping between whether St. Patrick's Day or Valentine's Day is my least favorite holiday (at least of the holidays I formally celebrate). Currently Valentine's Day is my least favorite. St. Patrick's Day is funner, and green is better than pink, but it is a rather pointless holiday, especially since I'm not Irish. I have a few Irish drops in the genealogical bucket, but I'm overwhelmingly of English and Scottish descent.

I got to wear two outfits for the holiday. To work, I wore green pants, green glasses, a shamrock tie, a white shirt, and an orange belt. My boss called me up to his office (usually he doesn't do that--he just talks to me on the phone) and he was very impressed with what I was wearing. I wondered if it was too silly and informal, but when the managing director of the department likes what you're wearing, you're probably safe. That night, I went to institute in green shoes and a t-shirt, but I didn't get as many compliments, since that outfit wasn't as good. Then I watched The Leprechauns' Christmas Gold. Yes, really.

Yesterday I was asked to spend a few hours at the Bountiful Family History Center in case anyone came in needing help. While I was there, I wanted to see how far back I could find my ancestry. I found it all the way back to Adam. Of course, I don't buy that line, and there are numerous problems--not least of which is that many of the years are out of sequence, and I found one Norse ancestor who was supposedly married to someone two hundred years younger than him. And one record literally says, "About four generations of Goths."

But this week I was able to learn (through research at work, not through family history) about one of my real ancestors, Frederick Kesler. He helped establish many mills in Brigham City (originally called Box Elder), and as Bishop of the Salt Lake 16th Ward, he helped make sure that families had food during the famine of 1856, since a drought and swarms of grasshoppers in 1855 created a food shortage. I'm excited this summer to do a trial run of formally celebrating Pioneer Day, since that day actually is relevant to me, unlike St. Patrick's Day.

Also this week, spring brought me such a nice surprise, as there were blossoms on our apricot tree; but unfortunately, only some of the branches had blossoms, so we probably won't have a very big apricot harvest this summer. Oh well. We usually have more than we know what to do with anyway.